Long Shadows
by Aelin Nicolo Winchester
Summary: "It is generally considered polite to explain your injuries to the one who saved your life." Loki didn't bat an eyelash. "Asgardians, as usual." Nico hummed in understanding. "Troublesome things, those." Or, in which Nico di Angelo and Loki Laufeyson are more similar than anyone realized, and both just want out of their family's shadows. Rated T just in case.
1. When You Meet Strange Men in the Woods

**Chapter One: When You Meet Strange Men in the Woods**

* * *

The first time Loki met the son of Hades was in the middle of the woods in Central Park.

Nico di Angelo had an arrow aimed at the trickster god's throat before he could say world domination. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded.

Loki was on the forest floor, leaning against a tree. He was clutching his bleeding stomach - injured while escaping Asgard. He was obviously in pain, but he smirked. "Have you not watched your mortal news in these past six months, human?"

The fifteen-year-old narrowed his eyes. "You say that like you're not one. Again, who are you?"

"Loki Laufeyson, if you must know," he snapped, "Is it the policy of half-bloods to let the injured bleed out before them? Some heroes you are."

Nico scowled, lowering his bow, though he kept one hand on his Stygian iron sword. If this was the famed Asgardian, it was no wonder he knew of his heritage. He was dangerous, a silver-tongued liar. Nico wanted to curse that stupid demigod instinct that put him in these kinds of ridiculous situations. _Being a hero is overrated,_ he thought dryly, _Maybe I could just pull the son of Hades card?... Nah, that rarely ends well._ "Nico di Angelo," he introduced himself. The half-blood snapped his fingers and pulled a canteen of nectar the Shadowrealm. He tossed it to the godling. "Drink," he ordered.

The god of mischief looked at it suspiciously, wondering if there was poison.

Nico sighed. "It's nectar."

Nodding, the older man took a sip. Immediately, the slice in the godling's belly was healed, leaving only dried blood caked on his hands from trying to stop the bleeding. Ordinarily, he could do it with his magic, but after months in that Asgardian prison, Loki couldn't see himself managing even a small feat of magic. Not that he would admit that to the small half-blood in front of him.

The Prince of Hades was dressed in his tunic and armor, having just left a senate meeting at Camp Jupiter. He had felt a disturbance in the Mist and come to investigate it. He'd expected a powerful spirit of some sort, perhaps a poltergeist, not this green-eyed godling from a different pantheon. He didn't seem hostile, but he had heard the stories. Nico didn't make a habit of trusting rumors, but there was one undisputed fact he knew: Loki Laufeyson was dangerous.

The two demigods looked at each other for several moments, neither willing to break eye contact.

Finally, Nico broke the silence. "It is generally considered polite to explain your injuries to the one who saved your life."

Loki didn't bat an eyelash. "Asgardians, as usual."

Nico hummed in understanding. "Troublesome things, those."

He could see the amusement in the godling's green eyes as he replied. "You've met them?" Loki asked casually.

"The blonde Prince came to New Rome once," he admitted, "A diplomatic trip. He was very enthusiastic. About everything." _And had no place on a diplomatic trip, he wanted to add, And didn't know the meaning of the word tact. And unbelievably stupid for someone who's been alive for thousands of years. So, basically a typical god._

"I would expect so," Loki agreed with barely-concealed distaste. "Now, I don't suppose you know where we are?"

Nico shrugged. "Somewhere near New York, I think."

"Do you intend to try to turn me in to the Asgardians?" the frost giant inquired nonchalantly, sounding for all the world like it would amuse him to watch that endeavor. But he was nervous. He hid it very well, but Nico could see something like fear in his eyes.

Nico surveyed the man. _Hmm... Yeah, he tried to take over the world and everything, but that doesn't really concern me. I never much liked this world anyway. Killing him might draw the attention of the Asgardians, and I really don't want to get involved with any more pantheons. Greeks, Romans, and Egyptians are more than enough for me._

Nico finally answered. "No. That would require _interacting_ with Asgardians. I deal with enough idiots already. I don't need another pantheon breathing down my neck. Although, if you do get caught again, I would appreciate my name remaining unmentioned." The last part was just cold enough to imply a threat.

Loki was about to give a sarcastic reply when every shadow in the clearing deepened dramatically in the span of a second, and then the Greek disappeared.

The green-eyed godling did not sputter, did not in fact give any indication of his temper flaring. But inside, he was more than a little irritated at such blatant disrespect. A _human_ threatening _him_ , and then disappearing like he had more important things to do than talk to a _god_! He didn't let the fact that di Angelo probably dealt with gods on a daily basis detract from his annoyance. Or the tiny kernel of begrudging respect at the foolish human's boldness.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **This is set a year after Blood of Olympus and six months after the Avengers. It's slightly AU PJO-wise because Nico doesn't actually live at either camp. That will be mentioned in the story, but I kinda wanted to get it out there now. I have** **no idea how long this will be. Read and review please!**

 **Oh, and I'll just get this out here: I own nothing. Let's just say that disclaimer counts for the rest of the story.**


	2. A Very Improbable Coincidence

**Chapter Two: A Very Improbable Coincidence**

* * *

The second time the two demigods met was very different.

Loki Laufeyson didn't know why the son of Hades was at a five-star restaurant disguised by the Mist to look like a 20-year old, nor did he particularly care. He just wanted to know why he was in the same five-star restaurant as him, was he following him, and if so what did he want?

The Greek gave no indication that he was surprised by his appearance. "Laufeyson," he greeted coolly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was hoping you could answer that," Loki replied with equal distance. "I was just hoping to find a good meal in this godawful city, when lo and behold I see the son of Hades across the room. I thought it couldn't be a coincidence to see you again, here, not two months since our last meeting."

"As a matter of fact, I was just waiting on a date," he explained. "I'm afraid now might not be an ideal time for a conversation. They're about to be here. I would be gone when they arrive if I were you."

Loki raised a brow. "Is this date of yours immortal, by chance?" He couldn't think of another reason he might say something like that.

Di Angelo smirked. "Not quite. But you really should be going, for your own good. I hear SHIELD and you have a bit of a history."

Loki's expression was cool, but his eyes betrayed his displeasure. He hated those ignorant mortals. Hated them with a hate that had never been hated in the history of hate. And as his magic was still in recovery from months of suppression, it would be unwise to stick around. He didn't know if they had acquired a powerful magic-wielder since his failed invasion. It wouldn't surprise him.

As he disappeared, cloaking himself in illusions, he magicked himself to the roof of the restaurant. He didn't bother hiding it, knowing di Angelo would probably keep the other patrons from noticing a thing with that Mist of his.

But that conversation had left him with some unfortunate questions.

Just what was di Angelo doing with SHIELD?

He was gifted with magic, the blood of a god running through his veins. SHIELD was the last organization any demigod wanted to be involved in. A chilling thought made its way to his mind - was di Angelo the magic-wielder he'd considered earlier?

It wasn't even a choice when he returned to the building, still invisible, to watch the proceedings. If he hadn't sensed another magical presence by then, he wasn't going to.

Sure enough, a blonde woman sat down at the table across from di Angelo barely two minutes after Loki had left. She had the air of a warrior, though she hid it well, but she was only a mortal. Definitely SHIELD, or something similar.

"Bobbi," di Angelo greeted with a disarming smile. "I was almost starting to think you weren't going to make it."

"I'm not that late," she argued. "I was just caught in some traffic."

"Is the rush hour over yet?" he asked casually.

"Yes, finally," the agent replied.

Loki was no fool, and recognized code when he heard it. The woman had encountered enemies on her way here. That didn't really tell him anything about why di Angelo was meeting her, though.

They small talked and discussed trivial things for a few minutes. Loki assumed that was what humans did when courting, which was obviously what these two were pretending was happening. He knew di Angelo was aware of his presence, but he didn't do anything, or try to alert the agent. They talked in code that he didn't understand, but he wasn't going to leave because he wanted to make sure that whatever the half-blood was doing with SHIELD didn't affect him.

When the agent left an hour later, Loki reappeared at the table with a glass of wine in his hand. "Well, well. You prefer older women, then, eh, Son of Hades?"

He felt the half-blood's normally calm eyes harden almost imperceptibly. Loki could feel the boy's magic flare and it seemed to want to lash out. When the lights flickered, di Angelo immediately yanked it back, bottling it up.

His voice was kept too neutral for him to anything but angry when he said, "My name is Nico. Using it would be appreciated."

Well, he could certainly appreciate that. After all, Loki hated it when people called him Odinson, instead of his preferred name. And the Olympians were infamous for their shitty parenting, even on Asgard, so it was probably rather frustrating to be identified by them. If di Angelo gave him that courtesy, he could at least return the favor.

"So, SHIELD?" Loki pushed, "I would think a private person such as yourself would prefer to keep away from such nosy little bugs."

Di Angelo shrugged. "In this day and age, that's harder than it looks. SHIELD was much more watchful after your little stunt in New York, and so noticed some inconsistencies previously hidden by the Mist. I give them bread crumbs on the state of Olympus. In return they leave me be and keep my cousins off their Index. Being hunted, no matter how ineffectively, is really inconvenient."

Loki allowed the corner of his lip to curve up. "So sorry about that," he said, not sounding apologetic at all.

Di Angelo just rolled his eyes, which seemed a bit out of character for him. "Must you be so childish? I deal with enough of that at Camp."

"Me? Childish?"

If anyone else had said that, he likely would have speared them for it. But as if was, di Angelo was providing some of the only intelligent conversation he'd had in the last few months, so Loki let that one slip.

The half-blood sighed, and for just a moment, his shoulders slumped, betraying his tiredness. But he looked perfectly normal the next moment.

Loki narrowed his eyes as it clicked. Despite his divine blood, di Angelo was half mortal. And controlling Hecate's Mist was not a task designed for mortals.

"Perhaps we should continue this conversation later?" Nico suggested. "I'm a busy man, you know. Places to be, things to do, people to kill."

"Kill?" Loki raised a brow. "I was under the impression that that pesky demigod instinct kept you from hurting humans."

Di Angelo sighed. "It does for most of us. I'm an exception - usually. That's why I'm the one in charge of hunting down the remnants of the enemy factions still in hiding. But my point stands - places to be."

Loki smirked. "I've nowhere to be but wherever I want to be."

He didn't mention that he'd spent the last two months hiding out from Asgardians and Thanos' minions, trying to stay out of places he very much did not want to be.

Di Angelo rolled his eyes again. He must have been very tired, not to reply with something sarcastic. "You got a phone?" he asked.

Loki grimaced. "No. You don't actually communicate with those _archaic_ devices?"

Di Angelo had a vaguely amused glint in his eyes as he replied, "Only when Iris messages are impossible. But I hear Iris isn't a huge fan of Asgardians. Any idea why that is?"

Loki's eyes mirrored his as he remembered the unfortunate incident about eight centuries ago. Well, it was unfortunate for Iris. For him, it was just hilarious. "Not in the slightest," he smirked.

Di Angelo pulled a slip of paper from his jacket and scribbled a number on it. "You have to at least know how," he insisted. "Just text me when you want to meet, so you won't have to use the _archaic device_ any more than necessary."

Loki almost chuckled at the human. Almost. "How considerate," he noted dryly.

He took the number. _Cultivating a relationship with him would be useful, he mused, He's powerful magic-wise, and I wouldn't be surprised to find he has friends in high places._

Not to mention, Nico di Angelo seemed to be the only person on this planet who didn't want him dead. Loki didn't think it was too absurd to find that a bit refreshing. Besides, it wasn't like he was human anyway.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Nico makes everything look easy, as usual. Anybody out there that actually thinks this is worth reading, please review!**


	3. An Uninvited Guest

**Chapter Three: An Uninvited Guest**

* * *

Nico was feeling rather satisfied. He had finally finished his hunt - _quest_ , as the Senate had called it - and was now spending New Years in his apartment in Venice. He had never been more content to sit at home and watch TV with pizza and tea (tea, because he had really had way too much coffee since his hunt began in November).

For the first time in months, he was having a good day. So he was understandably saddened when he felt the presence of a familiar green-eyed frost giant just outside his door.

Of course, Loki didn't bother knocking, striding into the apartment like he owned the place.

 _Didn't I tell him to call first?_ Nico thought irately, _How did he even find me?_

"What a lovely surprise," the half-blood said drily, not bothering to rise from his place on the couch. He wasn't the one who had barged into his home uninvited and not entirely welcome.

Loki, of course, was still looking around the room with a critical eye. "This is your home?" he said in lieu of a greeting.

Nico channeled his irritation into a sigh. "It's a safehouse. And didn't I tell you to call first?"

 _Why is he here? Surely he wouldn't come just for the hell of it._

The Asgardian hummed. "I'm sure you tell people lots of things."

"And they usually do as I say," Nico reminded him, "You know, I was having a nice day. You better not bring any Asgardians to my door."

Loki scoffed. "I just might, if you keep that attitude."

"Speaking of my nice day," the half-blood added, "Is there a reason you decided to interrupt it, or do you just have nowhere better to be?"

"The latter," he replied nonchalantly, "It's rather nice, not having to be anywhere but wherever I want to be."

Nico couldn't see any signs of deception. _Really? He just had nowhere better to be? He must have a worse social life than I do, to want to talk to somebody like me because he's bored. Then again, he is a fugitive._

Nico rolled his eyes, rising with a huff. "Tea?" he offered as he strode to the kitchen, "Unless that's too _mortal_ a concept for someone such as yourself, Your Highness."

Loki sniffed. "It will do."

 _He really is Asgardian,_ Nico mused, _His arrogance is just quieter than most._

He returned with a cup and a plate, setting both on the table by the pizza. "You can have some, I guess," Nico permitted, "There's another three boxes in the fridge."

Loki raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I'm fairly sure that's more than most humans can eat in a day."

Nico shrugged. "I'm not exactly human, am I?" The statement came out more bitter than he'd intended.

The godling turned and looked at him intently. If it hadn't been so undignified, he likely would've furrowed his brow. "Why would you want to be human?" he asked with a hint of a sneer in his voice. But mostly, he sounded distantly curious. The idea obviously had no appeal to him.

Nico's eyes flashed and he stared back just as intently. "I despise both of my parent species," he finally bit out, "But it would be preferable to have pure blood of either kind. The life of a half-blood is hardly ideal." Again, his voice came out much harder than he'd expected, but he didn't really care.

Loki cocked his head. "What's wrong with it?"

Nico gave him a long look, searching for any kind of mocking in his face. But he seemed genuinely ignorant.

"It's complicated," he finally said. His tone said very clearly, _I'm not talking about this with you._

Sure, most monsters stayed away from him now. But that didn't mean his life was fun. Today had been a notable exception. Simply put, being a demigod sucked.

Loki finally looked away. He picked up his cup and examined it. "Is this truly what you drink from?"

Nico looked at him strangely. _Hell of a subject change, Laufeyson._ "You've been here two months. In all that time, you haven't drank from a cup?"

"Yes, but they were nice cups," the god insisted, "Glass. This is plastic. You drink from plastic."

"Are you saying that because it's a mortal concept and you just hate mortals that much, or because you're used to the ridiculously high-class standard of living on Asgard?"

"The issue does not lie with Asgard," Loki argued, "Midgard is absurdly poor."

"There's only so much wealth to go around," Nico said drily, "And there are eight billion people in this planet to share it with."

Loki sniffed. "Yes. Humans do breed like rabbits," he observed.

Nico had to admit, if he didn't let the god's arrogance annoy him, it was actually rather amusing. "Where have you been these last months then, drinking from glasses and lamenting your losses?"

"Here and there," the godling said vaguely, "I went to Tokyo the other day. There were some interesting inventions, for mortal technology. And you?"

So he'd been traveling. It was wise, if he was trying to stay off of Asgard's radar.

"Hunting rogues," Nico admitted, "I finished the last one just yesterday, thank the gods."

"Was it that unpleasant?" Loki asked, taking a drink from his plastic, mortal cup.

"It was time-consuming," the Greek admitted. "And tiring, as there was little time for sleep. So yes, rather unpleasant."

Suddenly Nico felt a familiar stirring, and an Iris Message appeared in the air just as he covered Loki in Mist. He released it a moment later, when he felt the godling's own magic take over the illusion.

His guest sufficiently hidden from any curious demigods, Nico turned to the Iris Message. "Hey, Nico," Hazel greeted with a smile.

"Hazel, hi. do you need something?" he asked, plastering a smile on his face. Unfortunately, he knew why she was calling.

"I was just making sure you were okay," she replied, "The party started an hour ago."

He made himself look shocked, as if he was just remembering that. "Crap, I totally forgot! I'll be there as soon as I get ready," he promised.

"Thanks," she smiled, "Happy New Years!"

"Happy New Years," he repeated, and Hazel waved her hand through the Iris Message.

Nico resisted the urge to groan. He had been hoping Hazel would forget his promise to come to the Camp Jupiter New Years party, or at least not call him out until after it ended. Now he would have to actually _go. I love Hazel, but those Romans are insufferable. Heck, so are the Greeks. Half-bloods in general, really._

Loki revealed himself with an amused smirk. "Your memory must be poorer than I realized. Is your age finally catching up to you, di Angelo?"

Nico scowled at him. He didn't bother asking how he knew his age. Gods were just annoying like that. "Watch out, Laufeyson, lest your arrogance catch up to you more than it already has."

Loki's smirk didn't dim in the slightest. "Should I let you get ready for the party, di Angelo? As much as I hate to deprive you of my wonderful company-"

"I'll manage," he assured him drily. "I'm sure you can find the door."

"Until next time, then." He stood and disappeared with a flash, not bothering with the door.

Nico's magic recoiled from the flash of _seidr_ , but it didn't particularly bother him. With a sigh, he stood. He had a New Years party to get ready for.

"So much for a quiet day in," he muttered.

At least he'd managed to have one enjoyable conversation before he would have to go deal with the Romans.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I admit I had some issues writing this chapter, but I didn't want to make y'all wait any longer.**

 **The Battle of New York happened May 4, which would put Chapter One of this story took place in early November, and Chapter Two sometime after Christmas. I don't know about you guys, but I get those random, oddly-specific timeline questions all the time.**

 **Also, a guest reviewer pointed out that I put Isis instead of Hecate when referring to the Mist in chapter 2. That's been fixed. Thank you, whoever you are. Constructive criticism is always welcome! Please review, guys!**


	4. A Startling Realization

**Chapter Four: A Sudden Realization**

* * *

Loki Laufeyson had woken up with a bad feeling. Call it instinct, premonition, magic; whatever it was, he knew when he got up that morning that something was going to happen. He just didn't know what or when.

Regardless, he had learned long ago to trust his instincts, so he was, while not unperturbed, at least not as surprised as he might have been when when he felt a familiar magic stirring through the shadows of the dining room of his current residence. A second later, Nico di Angelo stumbled out from behind the fridge, a space far too small for him to fit into in the first place.

The half-blood had a sword in one hand, and was clutching his conspicuously-bleeding stomach with the other. He glared at the older godling. "Well? You gonna help me or not?" di Angelo snarled.

Loki looked at him with raised eyebrows, but conjured a flask of medicine and tossed it to the half-blood. He didn't move toward him, though.

Di Angelo had a dangerous look in his eyes. The boy looked something akin to a caged animal. Di Angelo opened the flask, sniffing it. His eyes flicked to Loki. "This isn't nectar," he observed suspiciously.

"It's a potion, usually used to stop people from bleeding out. I would think that would appeal to you now," Loki retorted.

The half-blood took a cautious sip. Loki sighed. "The entire potion is required to be at all effective," he stated flatly. He downed the whole potion with an unreadable face, but his eyes didn't look any calmer.

"Something about this situation feels familiar, wouldn't you say?" Loki snarked, hoping for a response.

Di Angelo still said nothing.

Loki gave him an unimpressed look. "You come into my residence uninvited, demand healing, and offer no explanation?"

Di Angelo's face remained expressionless. "It's a long story," he replied tightly.

He suppressed a sigh. Obviously the half-blood wouldn't be explaining any time soon. "Would you like to sit?" Loki offered, gesturing to the dining table. He was already in the end seat, eating a well-cooked meal of some Spanish meat made by the head cook of this house.

Di Angelo snatched a piece of meat from his plate, then tossed the empty flask into the table and sat down two seats away.

 _Why did he come here instead of one of his safe houses?_ Loki wondered, _Surely he had some of that Greek medicine-food there._

Meanwhile, di Angelo somehow managed to make eating look almost aggressive, a feat Loki had seen only in angry Asgardians.

Loki didn't know what had happened, but it couldn't have been good. Di Angelo still looked like he was ready to bolt, or maybe kill something.

"I do have plenty of time," Loki said, choosing his words carefully. He and di Angelo may have been on good terms, but the boy did not appear quite in his right mind at the moment.

He wasn't really expecting a response, but he got one. Di Angelo's voice was clipped and short when he said, "My cousins have decided they no longer require the services of a son of Hades."

A chill crawled up Loki's spine at the implications. It appeared the demigods were not quite as noble as the stories on Asgard made them out to be.

Loki was by no means honorable, but there were some things even he wouldn't do. To attack one's own family… well, even he had had to be magically coerced to fight Thor. Of course, it was too late to explain that little mishap to his old family now, but that was irrelevant.

Loki waited expectantly, and after a few moments of tense silence, di Angelo continued. "I am not a legionnaire. I've never been a legionnaire. I'm - I _was_ \- an independent contractor for the Romans. I solved problems for them when they hired me to. There was never anything in our contract about exclusivity. But when they discovered some of my other contracts, they decided I was too much of a loose cannon. That I needed to be eliminated before I became a threat. This was just the last straw for then. I'd been unofficially on probation for a while, since my behavior during the hunt I mentioned a few weeks ago was too _erratic_ for their comfort." His explanation ended with another snarl and finishing off the last of his stolen meat angrily.

Loki could feel di Angelo's magic roiling inside him, screaming to be released, to lash out and let its pure destructive power wash over everything the light touched. But di Angelo kept his walls up, the gate to his power locked up tight. Loki had never met at mortal with so much power and such acute control over it.

 _Perhaps that is why he was betrayed,_ Loki mused, _They did not realize that he was the exception to the rule._

Truth be told, Loki didn't quite know what to say now. He was good with people - it was what gave him the name of silvertongue - but he rarely had cause to comfort anyone. Unless he was manipulating someone with their grief, which wasn't his intention in this case. He tried to remember what Frigga had always done. In the end, he decided to state the obvious.

"You're angry," Loki observed.

"You think so?" Di Angelo's response was scathing, but not unexpected.

"Your cousins, the ones whom you fought," Loki pushed, "Were you close to them?"

Di Angelo's face was like granite as he stared at him, but at least he no longer looked like a caged animal.

 _Okay. He doesn't want to talk any more about it. Although I'm still not sure why he's here instead of one of his safe houses._

That seemed like a safe enough topic. Probably. It would still require careful wording.

"Have you somewhere to go?" he asked.

"No. Nowhere." _Alright, perhaps not so safe._ Di Angelo's voice was still hard, but his mask of stone flickered for just a moment long enough to identify the most prevalent emotions in his eyes. It was one Loki knew well - betrayal.

So his safehouses were compromised. If he was smart, which Loki knew he was, he wouldn't have told just anybody their locations. Whoever he had told had likely been close to him, and had almost certainly betrayed him.

It struck Loki suddenly that he was actually _concerned_ about this. About a half-blood he had met thrice. He enjoyed di Angelo's company and conversation, and he was actually _concerned_ about his wellbeing.

He hadn't planned on this.

"The guest rooms are at the end of the hall," Loki found himself saying.

Di Angelo looked at him intently for long enough for most people to become uncomfortable, as if he was searching for something. He must have found it, because he finally stood and walked towards the hallway without a word.

When he reached the doorway, he paused. "Loki…" he trailed off like he wasn't sure what he'd been going to say. "Thanks."

He was half-way down the hall when Loki realized that the young half-blood had called him by his given name.

 _Well. Damn._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I honestly don't know how I feel about this chapter. I kinda feel like it went too fast, and it was more serious than the others. Please review, guys.**


	5. Never Let It Be Said

**Chapter Five: Never Let It Be Said**

* * *

Nico dragged himself out of the bed and to the window. He glanced out, and found the moon still shining. The night was dark, in the way that it only was soon before the dawn. It was sometime around five, then.

Not that it mattered. At the moment, Nico didn't feel like a whole lot mattered. Except for what did.

 _"The Senate has already terminated my contract. Now they want me dead?"_

 _"Not the Senate. Just little old me."_

 _"You and Octavian, you mean."_

 _"Your words, not mine."_

He sighed, glancing at one of the many shadows in the dark room. He should leave. He had been stupid to come here, to Loki, to the gods-damned Trickster. He didn't even know why he had; he just hadn't had anywhere else to go.

 _"You're a time bomb, Nico. And when you go off, you're not the only one who's gonna get hurt. The Senate ended your contract to prevent that, but I know you. I know it's not enough."_

He didn't trust Loki. He didn't trust anyone.

He could, if he tried. He could trust Hazel, and the rest of the Seven. But that didn't mean he should.

 _His eyes were cold, colder than Nico had ever seen them. They still held that glimmer they always had, but Nico could see it clearly now. It wasn't kindness. It was cruel amusement, because he had fooled him so completely._

This was probably the Fates' way of telling him to get off his ass and get to work. Stop being lazy. Stop getting soft. Stop pretending to be something he's not.

He could go back. Jason and Frank would repeal the Senate' decision as soon as they got back to Camp Jupiter and found out about the Senate's impromptu meeting and decision in their absence. They probably already had.

He could go to Camp Half-Blood, where Percy and Annabeth would welcome him, if no one else. Or he could go to Santa Barbara with Reyna and the Hedges.

But he shouldn't.

 _"Why? Why did you…"_

 _"Pretend to give a damn about you? Well, somebody had to keep an eye on you. That was easiest done on friendly terms."_

He understood now. He had tried to have a (relatively) normal life, but it just wasn't meant to be. He didn't get to have a family like Hazel, he didn't get to have friends like the Seven, and he didn't get to have peace like Reyna and Hedge. And he certainly did not get to have whatever it was he'd tried to have with Will.

He got to do what he did - work, hunt, earn his place in the world.

 _"Will… I trusted you."_

 _"That was the point."_

He stepped toward the shadow, then paused. He pulled his journal from the shadow realm and tore a piece of paper.

 _Thanks. - d.A._

He placed it on the bed, and slipped into the shadow realm.

* * *

Nico would really have preferred to stay far away from Manhattan, but that wasn't an option. He had missed his regular meeting with Agent Morse due to an unfortunately powerful werewolf pack. Thankfully, it had ended in the death of Lycaon, which, while a very long story, was definitely worth it.

It was supposed to be a simple job for Lupa (the she-wolf herself, not the Romans. She had sworn not to mention him to them), to stop some of Lycaon's packs which had taken to attacking her demigods as soon as they left the Wolf House. It should only have taken a couple of days to destroy the packs, but then of course the King Wolf had to show up and it turned into a week-long affair that he couldn't just leave in the middle of. He had a reputation to uphold, thank you very much.

So now, on January 20, 2013, three days after his original meeting was scheduled, he was waiting in the office of one Agent Coulson.

It was incredibly unnerving, being here in his true form, with no Mist cloaking his features. He always came to these meetings in a visage. Always. Granted, it was more out out a preference for inconspicuousness than necessity, but it was comforting to be able to control his microexpressions with the Mist.

Right now he knew he was one of the least experienced people in a building full of some of the strongest mortals in the world. He had no doubt that for the first time in a long time, he might not be one of the strongest people there. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and he hated it.

That was when a man, presumably Coulson, entered the room and Nico's face was immediately smoothed into a mask of his own making, free of any Mist. He looked across the desk with the same cool disinterest he used on...well, most people these days.

Coulson took a seat in the chair across the wood desk, plastering an amiable smile on his face. Given the circumstances, it was probably fake, but Nico couldn't really tell, which did little to calm his carefully-hidden nerves. He could hardly remember the last time he had been this nervous. Not panicked, not angry, just nervous. It would've been when Bianca was on the Quest for Artemis.

"Nico di Angelo," Coulson began, "My name's Phil Coulson. Agent Morse couldn't make it today, I'm afraid, so I'm going to be handling this meeting. I just need to ask you a few questions. Sound good?"

Nico nodded silently. "Please, ask away." He gestured vaguely, lazily, mask firmly in place.

"Well, first of all, where were you two days ago when you were to meet Agent Morse?"

"The Wolf House." Nico had no reason to lie to the SHIELD agent, seeing as he was essentially their informant on most godly matters anyway. And Coulson should know most of the terms he used if he had read Nico's file.

"And what were you doing at the Wolf House?" he continued amicably.

"Helping Lady Lupa."

"With what?"

"Lycaon had sent several packs to ambush all the half-bloods she was sending out as soon as they left."

"Lycaon, the werewolf?" he inquired. Nico nodded. "And what did you do to the packs he sent?"

"Killed them."

"Were you aware this would interfere with your SHIELD relations?"

"No. It was only supposed to take two or three days, but Lycaon himself showed up and I used too much power killing him. I passed out for five days."

Coulson nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Well, in that case, let's move on to the subject that your original meeting was supposed to be about, shall we?" he suggested pleasantly.

Nico nodded, though he knew this wouldn't be at all pleasant. He'd have to explain that he was no longer in contact with the Olympian societies.

"What's been happening in the Greek and Roman communities?" Coulson asked.

"I'm afraid I don't know," he replied, keeping his voice even with some effort. "The Olympians and their kin have moved on to bigger and better contractors than I."

Coulson didn't respond for long enough to make most people uncomfortable, then, "You can't go back? You do have family there, do you not?"

"It would be unwise," Nico admitted calmly.

It was a short phrase, but there were so many implications. And if the momentary light in his eye was any indication, Coulson picked up on that.

"Any idea what could have elicited such a change?" he asked, and Nico could see he was choosing his words carefully.

"Nothing in particular," Nico shrugged. "Just a general distaste for my heritage that made my employment less than ideal for them."

"I thought the Greeks and Romans had settled their differences?" Coulson pushed.

"Their issue with mine is a bit more specific than Greek or Roman," Nico said lightly.

That Coulson seemed to understand without any fishing. "So is there anyone you know who might be willing and able to keep us informed?"

Nico shrugged. "There might be someone. I'd have to ask them about it before I gave you a name."

Coulson considered it for a moment. "That's reasonable. I trust you won't give them any damaging information before we've sufficiently vetted them?"

"Of course," Nico assured him.

"Good. Then, we can move onto other matters," he smiled, "I assume the Aztecs resolved their issues with the 2012 apocalypse?"

"They're just wrapping up some minor details now," Nico assured him.

So the rest of the meeting was spent discussing all world-changing level activities in most of the societies that contracted Nico.

In the end, he realized that losing most of his Greek and Roman connections was really just that - a few more lost connections in a series of many. And he still had many, many more to lose. He would keep fighting and keep his connections strong enough to be useful, to be worth the effort. But not too strong. He had seen where that road led, and didn't intend to go down it again.

Never let it be said that Nico di Angelo made the same mistake twice.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Guys, this story was just supposed to be a few plotless chapters of light Nico and Loki friendship and fluff, and then it just took a life of its own and decided it wanted an actual plot.**

 **I wanted to have Nico stay with Loki, I really did. I actually tried to do it, but it just felt forced, like that just wasn't how it was meant to go. In fact, I really wish there was more Loki in general in this chapter, but again, trying to force him in where the story didn't want him would have just interrupted the flow.**

 **Also, I acknowledge that not a lot happened in this chapter. I mean, not a lot happens in most chapters, but this one felt shorter than usual, even though the word count is relatively normal, if not longer than normal. Please review, guys!**


	6. More to Know

**Chapter Six: More to Know**

* * *

Loki hadn't been particularly surprised when di Angelo left without a word the next morning, but he certainly wasn't pleased with it either.

After the startling realization that Loki actually cared about the boy, he'd hoped he might stick around and… well, Loki wasn't sure what he wanted exactly, except perhaps to _help_ the half-blood. He had seen his fair share of warriors on the brink, which was where di Angelo would soon find himself, if he wasn't there already. He knew that choosing to be alone led them all to a bloody, often worthless death. And di Angelo, who was as much a hero as any of them before they succumbed to madness and death, deserved more than that. He deserved, at the least, a noble death. At the most, a worthy life (of course, Loki was not naive enough to hope for a _good_ life).

So after he left, Loki had searched for him. He was certain he could've found him in an hour were he free to use his magic to its fullest extent, but as it was he was limited by his fugitive status. Using magic to a higher degree than that would draw the eye of Heimdall, and even if the golden god would not see him _clearly_ , it was too much risk. The blurriness alone would draw suspicion from Asgard.

While he searched for the half-blood with subtle magic, he kept an ear to the ground in the magic communities he still had some influence in. Now that he was listening, he was hearing a lot. There was more to be said about di Angelo than he'd expected.

He had known that di Angelo was the son of Hades and had fought in the past two Olympian wars. He had known di Angelo was ostracized by his fellow half-bloods for his heritage and his power. He had known that he was much like Loki himself in many ways. But that was all he'd known.

Now he heard countless stories, half of which sounded just mad enough to be true. Some things, like the Greek's role in the Titan and Giant Wars, seemed likely enough. Other things were surprising, but came from a reliable source. Apparently, di Angelo was the Ghost King and the Ambassador of Pluto, then passed both titles to his Roman sister. He had helped weed out the corruption of the Per Ankh and been made an honorary member by the new Pharaoh, and apparently opened up channels of communication between several pantheons, ending the eons-long separation of magical communities. Loki briefly wondered why Asgard hadn't heard more about him, before he recalled his questionable heritage.

 _Of course, Asgardians would only want to hear about heroes of favorable birth, descended from high born gods. No one wants to hear about the accomplishments of a son of Hades any more than they do a jotuns'._

There were rumors that he'd been on the wrong side of some conflict in a mortal wizarding community in Europe, and single-handedly stopped the Aztec Apocalypse not a month ago. Those and more were tales far too wild to be taken at face value, even from a trustworthy source. Instead, Loki tucked them away for a later discussion with di Angelo himself.

But regardless of the seemingly blurry line between the fact and fiction that surrounded di Angelo, one thing that all sources and storytellers agreed upon was that Nico di Angelo's list was the last place you wanted to be.

Loki had to admit he was a little impressed.

Of course, he had done harder things himself, but to do all that in the tiny lifespan of a demigod: _that_ was impressive.

But aside from di Angelo's supposed accomplishments, there was little news of his present whereabouts. His last sighting had apparently been with the Aztecs, but that had been a dead end.

But if there was anyone who could track down underworld magic, or any magic for that matter, it was the goddess on whose territory he was loitering. She would appear soon enough. Loki would have preferred to stay out of the eyes of other divine entities, but he had no better choices. It had already been a week since di Angelo's visit and subsequent disappearance, and anything could happen in a week.

Sure enough, Loki felt the swirl of the Mist, subtler than di Angelo's, but surely strongly. Hecate appeared moments later, three vague shapes merging into one goddess before she revealed herself fully.

Loki straightened his back, giving her a nod. (It occurred to him in the back of his mind that he used to bow to people. He bowed to Odin once. This was all the respect any could garner from him these days. He pushed those thoughts away for another time.)

Hecate's face was as expressionless as always, giving no clues to her thoughts. "Loki," she greets with a tilt of her head.

"Lady Hecate." Loki gave her an easy smile.

"Spare me your empty pleasantries and state the purpose of this trespass," the goddess ordered, "No one enters the Underworld without reason."

 _To the point, as usual._

Still, the frost giant couldn't help but add, "Can I not visit an old friend? That is something friends do, after all, is it not? Or so I've seen in my time in that mortal world of yours."

She raised a brow, unimpressed. "Mortals tend to do so with some prior warning. _I_ tend not to do so at all."

Loki was tempted to make a jab at the Greek's hermit tendencies, but thought better of it when he spotted the gleam in her eyes. It seemed he had not caught her at a good time. They had certainly been something resembling friends once, but they hadn't spoken in a century or so. They hadn't fought, they'd simply been… busy. When one isn't fazed by time, Loki found, it was easy to lose track of it.

So he was unsure of how he would be received. He doubted that her tension was because of him, but Hecate was temperamental at best, and it was hardly beyond her to take her anger out on an innocent. Not that Loki was by any means innocent, but he didn't believe he was the cause of her displeasure.

"I've come for a favor," he admitted, letting a sheepish smile slip onto his face to hide the gravity of the situation. He knew she would see through it; she had never been fooled by his facades (and there had been many).

She cocked her head, a calculating glint in her eyes. In fairness, she always had a calculating look, but he could see the gears working in her head now. She had surely divined that he might visit, but he knew her foresight was complex. She never truly knew the future because the future was never certain. At least, that was the case when last they had spoken.

"I'm looking for someone," he continued as if he wasn't suppressing an unpleasant wave of what was certainly _not_ nostalgia (gods do not feel _nostalgic_ ), "A son of Hades. You might know him."

Hecate raised a brow. She hummed disinterestedly, but Loki could see the familiar, almost predatory gleam of curiosity in her eyes, as she replied, "I've met the boy in question, but I see few reasons for you to need him."

She was fishing. He could see it in her damned eyes. Apparently, she didn't know as much as she wanted to either.

Loki gave her an unimpressed look. _I've been so busy drowning in nostalgia, I'd almost forgotten what a meddlesome beldam my old friend is._

"I believe," he said, replacing his flat gaze with a smile more quickly than the drawing of a sword, "That this will suffice in terms of explanation." He drew from his jacket a small, ornamented silver snuff box.

He let his magic fall away from the box, and within moments its power was practically saturating the area. Even he was stunned for a moment, and he'd been the one covering it up before. He could see the moment Hectae felt it. She gave no visible response, but he saw the gleam in her eyes.

They both knew how powerful the box and its contents were, but only he knew what they were. That, for once, gave him the upper hand. He suppressed a smirk, opting instead for a small smile, and slipped the box open to reveal a set of two small stones.

"The lapis manalis," he clarified, "Just a little something I picked up from a generous spirit."

The stones weren't of much use to him as anything more than a bargaining tool, as all they did was open the gate to the underworld. He'd done so easily enough without them. However, no Underworld deity worth their magic would knowingly let a key to their domain slip into the land of the living.

"What do you want to know?" Hecate asked. Her eyes flicked from the stones to him and back again. That was out of character, which only served his certainty that she would do whatever he asked to acquire those stones. And he wouldn't ask much. He only needed information on one topic.

"First things first," he said, snapping the box shut with a clack, "What do you know about Nico di Angelo?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I have no excuse for the gap before this update. I just lost interest. I can't promise it won't happen again tbh, but I got back into a little while ago and I've been working on this chapter on-and-off for like a month. Updates from now on will probably just be whenever I feel like updating. You've been warned.**

 **Also, the lapis manalis is an actual thing from Greek mythology, but I think it's supposed to be a lot bigger than it is in this story. And I spent forever looking for the right word before settling on "beldam." It's got an interesting etymology, which I appreciated.**

 **I don't know if this was any good, and I went through like three completely different versions of it, so please, please let me know what you thought! Anything not flaming is welcome (constructive criticism included)!**


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